I have nothing against small penises (penii?). Many small penises have brought me much joy. In fact, I just love penises. All of them. Big ones, small ones, perfectly straight ones, ones with quirky little bends in them, hairy ones, unhairy ones…look I just really like penises, OK? They’re brilliant! In my experience, great sex can be had with any size penis, because what I’ve really been enjoying is the attention of the penis’s owner.
So, before you judge me for being a massive bitch about penis size, allow me to explain something. My ex-boyfriend broke my heart and I was a cliched pathetic wreck for a while. I hope this story will serve as a warning never to let a potential partner affect your life so negatively…especially when all the signs are there from the start that the person you’re falling in love with is a complete and utter cunt.
Somehow, I fell madly in love with a creationist, Piers Morgan loving, Tory supporting (although he never votes, because God), porn addicted narcissist who wasn’t very good in bed and had a framed photograph of Jamie Oliver in his living room. I’m still not sure how this happened. (The falling in love part, not the Jamie Oliver part…although what the actual fuck is that about?)
He’s one of those guys who sends random Facebook friend requests to women he doesn’t know (the kind of guy kids are warned about at school) because he finds them attractive. I, shallow though it may be, took the bait. He has no male friends either virtually or in real life so on some level, I knew from the start that this penis’s owner was, well, a bit of a penis. But not the kind I like. He didn’t make me feel good. Sometimes, when we were having sex, he liked to tell me (whilst seeming to have a very lovely time with them) that he wished my breasts were bigger. So obsessed with him was I, that I would probably have done something about that in time. Christ, I think I actually went a bit mad. Talking of Christ, he asked me to curb my language as he found my blasphemy so upsetting. (To clarify, that’s a HELLYEAH! for Brazzers, but a “you’re going to hell” for blasphemy.)
The more I reflect on this period of madness, the more I see that I neither shared nor respected any of this man’s beliefs. On the morning of the EU referendum result (in which he didn’t vote, because God), friends and I were horrified and bemoaning the ramifications for our futures. I text him and received a response that read, “I have no feelings about this. It is being dealt with by a higher power.”
He would often seek reassurance that his penis wasn’t too small. Clearly this was partly due to the extensive research he’d done in this area (by which I mean his addiction to pornography). Let’s just say that it came as no surprise to me when I read recently of the epidemic affecting men who find themselves unable to achieve orgasm through real sex as pornography has become the norm for them. (He said it was because I wasn’t that fanciable. “It might be because you’re too thin.”) He liked to send me clips from videos he’d recently enjoyed, and, not wanting to disappoint, I’d make all the right, appreciative noises. Then he’d say something like, “If only my cock was as big as his.” He’d refer to it when we were having sex so that I’d tell him how unbelievably fantastic it was. I’d say things like, “Oh my god how could you think that? Bigger cocks are just so uncomfortable. I couldn’t do the things with them that I do with you! You’re just so perfect.” I wish so much that the first time he’d said it, I’d responded simply, “Yeah, me too”, looked pitifully at his, grabbed my stuff and walked out.
I’m still trying to work out why his approval was so important to me. I’m still trying to work out why now and again I still feel the need to stalk his social media, and feel sick when I spot his new follows/followers. I’m still trying to work out why, even when I can see how awful he was, that I still feel somehow not good enough.
So. This post is not me slagging off small penises and the men who own them. Penises bring me great joy. I hope I have made that clear. Usually, that’s because the man to whom the penis is attached has also brought me some sort of joy. Or at least a drink. This guy didn’t. He brought me fear, anxiety, insecurity, self-loathing and a dark, dark sadness that I never want to feel again.
Oh, and a really, really small penis.
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